His Angels
by ladyashethealchemist
Summary: It is said that when one person dies, another is born right then to take their place. Thus is the way of the world. But when the person lost is your closest friend, your lover, your wife, could even your child take their place in the world?


It is said that when one person dies, another is born right then to take their place. Thus is the way of the world. But when the person lost is your closest friend, your lover, your wife, could even your child take their place in the world?

* * *

The Lady Empress groaned. Her face was pale, eyes glassy. Her hair was matted down from sweat, the natural waves all but gone. She had been in labor for two days already, and she had lost so much blood.

"You are so close, majesty. Please, keep pushing. I know you must be worn out, but soon this will all be but a memory." The nearest of the royal nurses spoke soothingly to the well weakened woman.

"I- can't," she spoke in broken whispers. "It-Hurts too much!"

Just then, the door to the Empress's chambers was flung open.

"Is she alright? Why did I not get notice of my wife going into labor? Ashe would have allowed for us to cancel the meeting." Larsa spoke in rushed tones to those in the room before settling himself down next to his wife.

"Penelo, honey, I'm sorry. I hadn't been informed. I'm here now. Just keep going." Larsa placed a kiss on his wife's lips then reached for her sweat covered hand.

Penelo gave a weakened smile. "I knew you'd get here in t-"she was cut off as another contraction shook her worn body. She clutched Larsa's hand, pushing as hard as she could. "time."

"Alright, majesty. We just need one more push, alright? Give it all you've got!"

Worn, pale, and exhausted, Penelo pushed with all her remaining strength. Her breathing grew shallower and more labored than before.

A tiny cry caused a smile to flutter onto the sickly Empress's face.

"Congratulations. You have a healthy baby girl."

"Hand her-to me" Penelo's shaky arms reached out. She laid the child across her breast. "Her name."

Penelo froze as her eyes went fuzzy. "Her name is Marisol."

Larsa caressed Penelo's face as he smiled at his daughter. "Marisol Emilia Solidor."

Penelo turned to Larsa. "I need-water. Just going-to close-my eyes…"

The Empress grew pale and slack. Her breathing fluttered.

"What's wrong with her?" Larsa demanded, panic heavy in his voice. Already had healers scrambled to the woman, trying everything they could,

"It could be blood loss. Or there could be some undetermined factor. She should be fine. Do not worry. Many women pass out from exhaustion after child birth."

"That looks far worse than just simple exhaustion." Larsa's voice was a tad sharp from fear. He clutched Penelo's hand, hoping for the best. One of the nursemaids came to clean the child and dress it, distracting Larsa only for a moment.

Lying before him was his angel, worn, sick, and for all he knew, dying. Penelo was his sunshine, that spark in his eye. And there she lay. He blamed himself for not getting there sooner. Had he been with her this whole time he might have been able to do something.

* * *

The Emperor held onto that delicate hand long after no pulse was felt. He held long after it grew cold and clammy from death.

"Larsa," the voice of a friend caused the man's tear streaked face to snap to the door. "You have to be strong for your daughter."

"And what do you know of family or love, Basch?" Larsa spoke with the voice of a broken man. "She's gone. Everything has become but a dark shadow compared to what it was merely hours ago when she was full of life."

"I know that you have to keep on living for those still alive." The older man placed a hand on the shoulder of him who used to be his charge. "Your daughter will need a parent. You will need to take responsibility of Marisol and not just leave her to maids and nurses."

The Emperor gave him no response.

"Larsa, she is a living piece of both you and Penelo. Please, Penelo would want you to make sure that she is a big part of your life. Have you even held her yet?"

The raven-haired man shook his head. "No, I have not." He sighed. "You are right. Penelo would want me to spend every possible moment with our child."

He stood up, kissing for the last time his departed wife's hand. "Goodbye, my angel."

Raven-haired face turned to the judge. "Take me to Marisol, if you would."

* * *

Larsa watched his five year old daughter rush around in the gardens. Her black pigtails flowed in the soft spring air, and her warm brown eyes looked to her father with the same smiling expression her mother's once did.

The Emperor smiled widely at his daughter as she came and sat herself on his lap. The squirming girl dressed in a pale yellow romper would be an exact replica of her mother, if her hair had been blonde instead of black.

"Daddy?" the soft tones of a child's voice rang out in question. "Can you tell me more about your journey and meeting mom? She sounds like one of the Princesses in my books!"

Larsa chuckled lightly, although sadness now was on the edge of his eyes. "Your mom was very much like one of those princesses. She was the most beautiful woman to grace the earth."

"Even prettier than Auntie Ashe or Fran?" Marisol tilted her head to the side in question.

"Yes, even more so," her father smiled. "She even once needed to be rescued…"

As Larsa spoke more about Penelo, his face grew more and more understanding. And as his daughter hung on every word and hugged herself close to him, he could see what Penelo had said to him once.

"The world may throw things at us we least expect, but when it does we have to show it we know just what is going to come from it."

Marisol looked to her father once again. "I love you daddy!"

Larsa kissed her forehead. "I love you too, my angel."


End file.
